


Investment

by WeNeedARuse



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games), rdr2 - Fandom
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Come, Dom/sub Undertones, Just smut, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Sex, Smut, There's really no reason for this, one small instance of spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-12-14 14:41:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21017441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeNeedARuse/pseuds/WeNeedARuse
Summary: A con, an empty room, a possessive Dutch.





	Investment

**Author's Note:**

> This doesn't really fit in anywhere with When It's Like This or The Revenge Business Dutch and Arthur, so I guess it's just a separate random smut fic.
> 
> I hope you enjoy! And please, comments and kudos mean a lot- even on tiny fics like this- and I really do appreciate every single one.
> 
> Thanks :)

Hand on his throat. Fingers in his ass. Dutch’s harsh breaths against the back of his neck. The sounds of merriment just feet away from them. 

Arthur screws his eyes shut and gives into pleasure. 

Pleasure of the fight. Pleasure of the con, investment bankers thinking they’re here with thousands. Not knowing they’re about to be ripped off. 

Pleasure of the desperation. 

Pleasure in Dutch’s absolute need for him. 

“Goddamn.” He hears himself speak and clamps a hand over his mouth, shaking his head when Dutch tuts at him. 

“Bend over.” A whispered command. 

“Yes sir.” A soft huff of a shocked laugh, a growl. Dutch likes it when he plays this game. 

And Arthur? 

Arthur likes it too much. 

He leans forward, grips hard to the edge of the desk in front of them. 

God, he thinks, if he comes all over this desk, the bank manager will have a goddamn fit. 

The tin he carries with him always, not just for this purpose, is opened again and in seconds something much blunter, harder, larger pushes at him. 

“They were all looking at you, you know.” Dutch whispers as Arthur keens. God, how does he do that? Keep his voice that low, that deep, reverberating through Arthur’s entire body. 

“Looking at you. Wanting you. Fuck, some of those girls are going to go to bed tonight...” a hard thrust, a push through just to get him inside and Arthur chokes back a groan. “Go to bed and stick their fingers inside themselves and think of you.”

“Ain’t true Dutch.” He can feel himself blush, all that’s happening and this is the thing that makes him blush. 

“And the men?” A bite against his ear as Dutch’s thrusts pick up the pace, grinding now. “The men are going to jerk their tiny cocks and wish they were in my position.”

Arthur lowers his head, shakes it.

No, he can’t stand it when Dutch says these things. 

“Ain’t nobody wants me but you, Dutch.”

“Oh Arthur.” A hard slap against his ass, loud in the silence of the tiny room. Loud but not loud enough to be heard. 

“You fucking fool. They all want you. And they all want to be me.”

Hard now. 

Painfully hard. 

Ass cheek red raw from the slap. 

Arthur cranes his head back and sees Dutch looking at him. Those eyes, lord god they fucking glint in the dark of the room, wicked and cruel and full of something...

Something he will never be able to name. 

Something that calls to the darkest part of him. 

“Look at them.” He can see them through the tiny crack in the door, drinking their ten dollar whiskey, fondling their two dollar whores. 

“I want to look at you.”

A laugh and the thrusts slow. 

“You want to look at me?” Dutch’s voice is cruellest when it’s quiet. Arthur feels his cock twitch at the timber of it and reaches down, cups himself, holds back. 

“Then maybe we should stop? Wait until we’re somewhere more private, hm?”

Arthur shakes his head, murmurs deep in his throat. 

“No.”

“But you want to see me? You want to watch me? I can’t fuck you face to face here.” 

God please, Arthur thinks, please don’t tease me any more.

“I can’t give you all my....” a rolling thrust has him white knuckling the desk, fingernails scraping the wood 

“Undivided attention.”

“No.” More forcefully, louder. A man looks up from his whore and frowns. 

Dutch laughs. 

“That one there.” His arms come around him and bring his body up full flush against his. The change in the angle shakes him to his core. The scent of Dutch’s expensive cologne is too much to bear. It will be on him, all over him,

Dutch’s scent. 

He blinks, blurry eyes find where Dutch is pointing. A handsome man in his late forties scanning the room. 

“That one asked me how much you cost.”

“You’re lying.” Arthur scoffs. 

“I’m not.”

“Then why is he still alive?” He thought he’d get an answer but Dutch only wraps his hand around his cock and strokes once, twice 

On the third Arthur is coming,

Legs shaking, body trembling, Dutch’s fingers caught between his teeth as he bites down, the salt copper tang of blood slips down his throat. 

A few more thrusts and Dutch is coming too, silent and hard. White hot heat inside him, teeth in the back of his neck. 

Dutch leaves him there, shaking and stunned. Exits the room, impeccable suit unrumpled, hair unruffled, looking nothing like...well, Arthur looks down at the mess he’s made of himself, 

Looking nothing like him. 

He wipes himself as best he can but he can still feel the drip leak of Dutch’s come, staining his thighs. 

And then,

Yes

He realises then, exactly why the man is still alive. 

Son of a bitch, he thinks. 

Used and left, an exhibit to show. 

Arthur rakes his hand through his sweat mussed hair and takes a breath. Well, he thinks,

If he’s going to be Dutch’s boy, invest fully in his role,

Then he should look the part

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not going to lie, I wrote this out of spite and anger.
> 
> And I'm not really that sorry about it.


End file.
